The Wager
by anne-writes
Summary: Hermione and Severus make a very interesting bet. Post-DH
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry about my other stories, I'm indescribably stuck on all of them. But here you go! It's all finished. Enjoy! And I love reviews, of course.

**:::**

"Severus?" Hermione called, pushing open the door with her hip and squeezing through the doorway, arms full of groceries.

"I'm busy!" she heard him call from the sitting room.

"With something time sensitive?" she snapped, entering the kitchen and putting the sacks down on the table.

She heard him mumble something rude, then he appeared at the doorway.

"What do you need, Hermione?"

"Could you please start unpacking the groceries? I've a few more bags out in the car."

"I'll get them. It's cold outside," he said, turning and heading for the door. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the bags, and began to unpack them.

A few moments later she heard the door open and then shut again, and he strode into the kitchen, depositing the final things on the counter.

"Thank you, Snape," she said, stretching up to put the cereal atop the fridge. "It'd be lovely, though, if you were actually being sincere in all your niceness."

Then he was behind her, his hands ghosting on her sides, his breath hot in her ear as he leant down.

"Oh, I promise I'm being _sincere_, Hermione," he whispered. "But my sincerity has very little to do with any nice feelings on my part, and a lot to do with wanting to see you naked, and feel you under me, and lick your—"

"Alright!" she said loudly, a little too short of breath for her liking, and attempted to shake him off. He bit her earlobe quickly, hard, before taking a large step back and turning to the groceries.

"Now, darling, where shall I put the cucumbers?"

She sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

It had started two weeks prior, when, sitting in the living room of 12 Grimmauld Place where they both lived, and had for three months, Severus had set his book down, took off his reading glasses, and, clearing his throat to break the comfortable silence that covered the room, said her name.

"Yes, Severus?" Hermione had naively responded, looking up at him from the newspaper, her only thought that he'd be quick about whatever rude comment he was going to make about her appearance or housekeeping skills so she could get back to the article. What he said, however, floored her.

"I think we should fuck."

She couldn't even say her jaw dropped open, because it didn't. She didn't move at all, in fact. She was frozen, and all she could think was that she hoped she'd a bad case of malaria and had hallucinated that.

"Pardon me?"

"I think we should fuck. We've been snowed into this bloody house for days, I'm bored, and you're pretty enough. Also, I know you look at my arse when you think I'm not looking."

That last one had been a guess, but from the red flush that quickly covered her cheeks, he'd known he was right.

"Well— I— Snape!—" she spluttered, clutching the newspaper to her chest.

He leaned forward in his seat.

"Give me one good reason why not."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "Snape! You're awful! It's true that I've… thought about it, but I don't think you've ever been nice once in your life!" she burst out.

His eyes narrowed. "I can be nice."

She scoffed, and leaned back, apparently having regained control of her wits. "Bullshit. And even if you were, I don't think I'm looking for a meaningless shag right now."

"I could change your mind," he said arrogantly, still watching her intently.

"I doubt it," she said sweetly.

"Want to bet on it?" he taunted her.

"Bet that you can't make me want to have a meaningless shag with you? I think that doesn't seem quite fair, you're guaranteed to lose."

"If I win, I want you, tied to my bed, wearing some weird kinky sex outfit. Sexy nurse would be a good laugh," he murmured, eyes darkened and still focused on hers. She squirmed a little in her seat.

"And if I win?" she asked.

"Name your terms."

"I want… I want you to recite me Shakespeare. In public."

He growled.

"Too steep a price?" she whispered, leaning forward once more, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Nothing would be, since I'm going to win. There needs to be a time limit, of course," he said softly, his voice chocolaty soft and rock hard.

"Three months?" she replied, keeping her tone light, hoping that he was taking the piss and not serious.

"I only need one."

She closed her eyes slowly, and stuck out her hand.

They shook on it.


	3. Chapter 3

And now there were two weeks left of the one month time frame. The two so far had been disconcertingly hard for her, between his favours and his stolen touches and kisses pressed to her forehead when she was least expecting it. At night, when she retreated to her room, she immediately stripped off her shirt and trousers, more slowly taking off her bra and knickers, and slid under the covers of her bed to touch her body and think about his callused hands sliding over her.

The only thing that kept her sane was knowing that when he held out her coat for her, or brushed her hair out of her face while she was cooking, or whispered something so bloody _romantic_ in her ear just before bed, that he didn't really mean any of it. She knew that, but her brain couldn't stop her heart from pounding in her chest when he was near her, and the problem only seemed to be getting worse.

She thanked the gods that it was only two more weeks.

Severus hadn't expected this to snowball out of control in the way it had. He'd at first only meant to provoke her, thinking that the only two outcomes were that she'd become amusingly flustered, or that she'd actually put out. The latter was obviously very unlikely, but it was worth a shot.

He had not expected for him to enjoy their little game so much. He would find himself sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, waiting for her to return from whatever visit she was off making, just so he could touch her or kiss her and feel how much she wanted him.

It was all a game, of course, he didn't want her for any emotional reason, but it was an incredibly intoxicating game at that, and he felt as though he were addicted to some sort of drug, so desperate was his need to be near her, to taunt and tease her, to brush too close against her in the doorway. He craved her body more desperately than he'd craved any woman before. He knew from Legilimency that at night she touched herself and thought about him, and he had begun to sit outside her doorway every night, listening to her soft moans and gasps and occasional almost inaudible shriek into her pillow. After, he would lie in his bed and think about her hands touching herself, her fingers sliding along the folds that he was desperate to feel himself, and he would reach under the blankets and pretend that his hands were hers.


	4. Chapter 4

The next week and a half passed without a mention of the encroachment of the deadline, but his actions and her barely restrained desire thickened the air in 12 Grimmauld Place. The sexual tension hung there between them, thick as a blanket.

When Severus touched her, it was hotter than before, when his lips brushed her neck "accidentally," Hermione could barely keep herself from turning around and pressing her body against his.

And then one day, two days before the looming deadline, she didn't.

She was sitting at the dining room table late at night, working out the kinks some Runes she was trying to incorporate into a potion. She was still picking at the toast and tea he'd made her an hour before when he'd walked over. He'd pushed her hair away from her neck, and kissed the place her neck curved into her shoulder, just a little kiss, and she couldn't stop herself from twisting in her seat and meeting his lips with hers.

It was so _right_ that she almost cried, furious with herself for keeping this from happening, almost not noticing the growl that escaped his throat as he opened her mouth under his, his hands grasping the back of her head a bit too tightly. She moaned, his tongue sweeping her mouth impatiently, before he untangled his fingers from her hair and pulled her to her feet, pulling her against him, letting her feel the way her body fit against his just like he knew it would.

He swept her up in his arms, still kissing her, and walked quickly to the stairs and up to his bedroom, the only room in the house she'd never entered. It was dark and secret, devoid of any personal items, pristinely clean, and pervaded with a dark, musky smell of man overlaid with the unmistakable scent of very old books and mothballs.

He tossed her on the bed and began on the buttons of his shirt, jerking at them until they came undone. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were so dark, fathomless as he watched her tugging at her jumper and skirt. His face was serious, which surprised her, since she'd been expecting a taunting smirk and a jibe for having lost. But it didn't come.

Pulling off his shirt, he shoved down his trousers and pants at once, kicking off his shoes and socks before kneeling on the bed and kissing her again.

"Wait," she murmured, stilling her hands on her clothing, and she looked at him with heavy eyes.

"This is only going to happen once," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair. "I don't want to get hurt."

He nodded slowly, seriously.

"So if you want your prize, arrange it now," she added, flushing slightly, pulling her hand back and resuming her unclasping of the placket of her skirt.

He shook his head. "This is better," he replied.

She smiled up at him, a real, bright smile, and he kissed her again.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione awoke tangled in Severus' limbs, his knee digging uncomfortably into her thigh, his arms clasped too tightly around her, holding her firmly back against his chest.

She made a futile attempt to squirm out of his arms, which just resulted in stirring him awake. He loosened his arms slightly, just enough for her to turn to face him, and he pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Good morning darling," he said, voice gravelly, eyes still half-lidded in sleep.

She bit her lip fiercely.

"Don't call me darling," she snapped.

"Why not, dearest? You liked it well enough last night."

She shut her eyes, willing herself not to cry.

"Last night was a mistake."

He hummed, deep in his chest, and cuddled her closer. "Now that is patently not true. Last night was bloody fantastic. Possibly the best sex I've ever had."

She squirmed harder away from him, and released her, sitting up, looking much more awake and slightly more serious. She sat there, stark naked, glaring at him. His brow furrowed, and he reached out one hand to wipe away the tear he'd just noticed. She jerked her cheek away before he could.

"Hermione, I didn't mean to make you do anything," he said gravely.

Her jaw quivered, and another tear rolled down her cheek. "You didn't. I wanted to."

"Then what's wrong?"

She shut her eyes. "This whole situation is wrong. You should never have started this in the first place."

He leaned closer. "Hermione, I was just trying to have a bit of fun."

She opened her eyes and glared at him. "Exactly. _You_ were trying to have fun. What part of this did you think would be such fun for _me_? Perhaps the part where I lose, or the part where I wake up in the morning feeling like I'm sure every other bloody whore you sleep with feels like? Unwanted, and painfully reminded of the fact that you are so far out of my reach. That I'm just a game to you, while it's become so much more important to me. And I'm quite sure you couldn't care less. Have you ever thought about someone other than yourself?"

He opened his mouth to snap at her, but she was already gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione studiously avoided him for the next week, cooking enough dinner for both of them but eating in her room, and when he saw her or tried to talk to her, she would just walk away. Severus didn't understand what was going on, but he could feel her sadness seeping through house, surrounding him until they were both trapped in a silent cocoon of misery. He'd been drinking whiskey constantly, curled into that bed where they'd lain, imagining he could still smell her in his sheets.

And then, he admitted it to himself. He didn't quite know what to do to fix it, because he was quite sure it needed to be fixed as soon as possible, but he felt the answer dancing on the edge of his mind.

The invitation to the Weasley's for Christmas dinner helped. It came a week in advance, which was more time than he necessarily needed, but he still wasn't entirely sure he was making the right choice. So much hinged upon this, upon his decision, and he felt woefully unprepared and uninformed with regards to making it.

But he hadn't a choice, since he wasn't sure when another opportunity would present itself, and he couldn't bear knowing how upset she was. Even worse, though, he couldn't bear that he could feel her sadness relenting. He could feel her starting to move on, let go, forget about him.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione sat between Ginny and George at the long table at Christmas dinner. Dinner had been exhaustingly long, and all she wanted was to go home and curl up in her bed. Severus was seated down at the other end of the table, and he'd been watching her the entire time, his eyes sparkling with something she didn't understand.

When Molly had cleared away the last of the pie, and had settled back down next to her husband, there was a lull in the conversation, and Severus cleared his throat and stood. She looked down at her plate, pushing the remnants of pumpkin around with her fork, avoiding his thick gaze.

He cleared his throat.

"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"_

She looked up, confused, much like everyone else at the table, who were all trying to figure out why Snape had begun to recite a sonnet while watching Hermione carefully with a strangely affectionate-looking smirk on his face.

_"Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
__Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
__And summer's lease hath all too short a date:  
__Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
__And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
__And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
__By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
__But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
__Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;  
__Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
__When in eternal lines to time thou growest:  
__So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
__So long lives this and this gives life to thee."_

She was still staring at him, biting her lip, tears running freely down her cheeks.

"Well?" he asked, voice rough, cheeks pinkening.

"I don't understand," she said softly.

"It turns out that, contrary to what I thought, it wasn't meaningless. And so you win our wager."

"Is this another game, Severus?"

He shook his head. "However, I've thoroughly embarrassed myself and would like to hide my face. Possibly forever. Ideally, I will never see these people again," he finished, turning and striding from the room.

She grinned suddenly and stood up from the table, running to the doorway he'd disappeared through with a half-hearted wave goodbye to the others.

Lavender, always the wisest of the lot when it came to matters of love, began to sniffle and clap loudly, resting her head on her Won-Won's shoulder.

Everyone else just looked bewildered.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione ran straight into Severus in the hallway, and he caught her against him and pulled her close. She wound her arms up around his neck, and he bent down to lick the tears from her cheeks.

"When did you know?" she whispered, eyes shut, trying not to cry any more.

"If you want romantic, I'll say when I first proposed our wager. If you want honesty, I'll say… when you were so sad that morning, and wouldn't let me wipe your tears away. I didn't know what it was, but I felt it." He pressed his lips to hers.

She pulled her head back. "When did you know what it was?"

He looked down at her, thoughtful. "I think when I made you that toast while you were working."

She laughed. "You can't have known it was love before you realised you felt anything at all!"

He shrugged. "I don't know, then. I think that was it, though. I think I realised it was there before I actually felt it. And then when I did feel it, it was like being hit by a bus, and I finally understood what everyone has been going on about for so many years. But I don't think I admitted it to myself, not really, until a week ago, when you were so sad, and it hurt me so much not to be allowed to hold you."

She started to ask another question, but he just grabbed her hand and pulled her to the Floo, laughing for the first time in years.

When they emerged in 12 Grimmauld Place, he just kissed her again, trying to explain with his lips how long it had been for him since he'd felt anything this strong, trying to make her understand that living through the life he had, he was broken and sarcastic and mean, and he probably would never be able to love her properly.

But she kept kissing him anyway, and he knew somehow that she'd understood, but would love him anyway. And that's all he wanted.

That, and for her clothes to be off as soon as possible.

**:::**

_The End._


End file.
